Judge, 1915-12-04 · page 16 of 28
Judge — December 4, 1915 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes pre-Christmas financial anxiety among the middle class. The left column ("Christmas Morning") features confessional poems from people who've overspent on gifts for others while their own possessions deteriorate—a mother who bought her mother a couch but owns a "tattered" rim (possibly a hat), someone who purchased silver spoons instead of a diamond brooch they desperately wanted. The satire targets the social pressure to give generously while hoping recipients reciprocate with better gifts. The repeated refrain "I hope she's going to give me that" reveals the transactional nature of gift-giving. "The Notion Counter" (right) offers humorous asides on life's small ambitions—wearing gray flannel shirts, enjoying leisurely breakfasts, eating corn on the cob—emphasizing how modest pleasures matter more than wealth. The cartoon above depicts silhouetted figures on a rooftop with a chimney, likely illustrating Santa's journey, connecting to the Christmas theme of expecting gifts to solve one's problems.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Christmas Morning N Christmas morni I awake with terror 5 O My balance at the bank is red and vanished is my roll I've po regrets for what i but here's the thought which hurt: I'm frayed and frumped and frosted, My credit is exhaust . What shall I do if no = me shirts? I bought a couch for mother (had to have it anyway.) Lal bought her silver spoons we've needed many a Then for her own, own self 1 plun; My own i and batteret Its rim is nearly tattered Good Lord! I hope she’s going to give me that diamond fi hI 1 me y my ol A seat the Stock Exchange Instead | bought him one fine b My own are worn and jaded And double-darned and faded Dear me! I hope A ing to give me those A pearl-rope, an electric car, a sable coat, or set, Were trifles which I thought my oldest girl would like But in the five-and-ten cent store I saw the cutest purse! My own is now so empty No tramp would call it tempty Dear Santy! please don't bring one any worse.—Edmund Vance Ci The Notion Counter my life I have had an ambition to wear gray flannel shirts, but never the courage Whenever I hear a crossing policeman blow his ask him what down it is. Writing love poetry is like boiling au One i it too soft or not soft enough Whenever I think over the married women Th count for the cashiers that I see. Sometime I uld like to sce a conve n of the buy some of the wall paper that is shown us histle T want to getting My idea of wealth is to have an orange and a newspaper at break- fast and to dare to take time to enjoy them I wonder how much a man would have to put plate not to feel that maybe he hada’t put in A man ought not only to go into his closet t eat corn on the cob and fried chicken.—Douglas 1 contribution